#4 in highschool 💗
Ayanna Jackson had a fairytale life. She lived in a rich estate in new jersey and ruled her private high school, Weston, alongside her best friend Charlotte and Max for as long as she could remember.
Then without warning her who...
I made the familiar walk down the corridor of our jersey house, then up the stairs. I knew what was coming next when I heard the voices. I went to my parent's room and stood at the door bracing myself to open it. I didn't see my mom and her beautiful jungle of curls or my dad or his bitch girlfriend.
It was Max and Charlotte making out. They looked up and laughed when they saw me and continued their heated make-out session. He trailed kisses along her neck and she moaned and giggled, just like I did when he touched me that way, then she ripped off his shirt.
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The end of the weekend came quickly, and it was time to face what I feared most. My first day at Hawkins. A public school. It might not sound like a big deal but I was bred in private schools. Rich kids, high profile dads, and trophy moms.
I wouldn't say I was nervous. If anything, I was annoyed. At my last school, I was on top of the social hierarchy.
Ruler of all, the subject of none.
At least, that's what my prom queen sash said. Now, I had to start from the bottom. At Hawkins, I would just be some new kid with perfectly threaded eyebrows.
It was chaos outside of the haven of my room. I could hear the clamor of everyone struggling to get ready and I was not excited to go out and tackle that mess. So, I just got dressed. I had showered the previous night anyway.
I took my time dressing up, choosing my outfit, taming my hair. I believe first impressions are everything. Don't judge a book by its cover is the biggest lie ever uttered. It's impossible not to. Hello, God gave us all eyes for a reason. I mean, how can I look at a girl wearing denim on denim and not assume she's suffering from a severe case of some sort of psychosis. I'm sorry but my brain just immediately makes that connection.
I dress to make an impact. I would let them all know that I wasn't just some lamo girl who came out of nowhere. I was a scary hot, boss ass bitch.
I threw on a blouse and a teasingly short skirt. I paired it with my knee-high Gucci boots, which I value more than almost everything I own.
